


Ectober 2017 Prompts

by flightyrock



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Danny hates Christmas, Depression, Dissociation, Isolationism, Loneliness, OC, PP did not happen btw, Property Damage, mild body horror, minor blood, minor injury, suicide ideation, unhealty emotional state
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-04 14:07:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12772662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightyrock/pseuds/flightyrock
Summary: This is a home for my writing experiments that follow prompts created by fruitloopghost@tumblr.  Stories range in tone from humorous, to depressing, to downright fluffy.  They were originally intended to be read as completely separate stories, but now, they all kind of exist in the same universe and along a linear timeline of sorts.  I'll include a summary at the start of each chapter, or "day."Sample:  "Day 1: Decorations.  The Christmas season seems to start earlier every year…Needless to say, Danny is not feeling it."





	1. Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas season seems to start earlier every year…Needless to say, Danny is not feeling it.
> 
> Humorous oneshot.

_Give me a break_.

Danny was annoyed.

Scratch that.

Danny would be annoyed if he had encountered the red and white horror in the usual fashion, mocking him from a tolerable distance in the Henderson’s front yard like it did every year, beginning promptly at midnight on the morning of November 1.

But no.  This time, Danny was much closer to the infantile inflatable.

So close that all Danny could see was red, his limbs tangled in the cheap canvas and the musty smell of underground spaces and mothballs filling his nose.  A distant, wry corner of the ghost boy’s brain couldn’t help but appreciate the universe’s special brand of humor it reserved specifically for him.  He would be flattered at the special treatment if it brought anything other than pain and humiliation.

Take this situation, for instance.

Both elements came into play, the blood (ectoplasm?) rushing uselessly to color his face and ears at the mad cackling coming from the _Box Ghost,_ of all spooks, as he promptly slammed into a telephone pole.

_And there’s the pain._

His forehead took the brunt of the force, the shock of the impact stopping time for a moment, only to resume with the sharp throb of pain indicating the formation of one heck of a goose egg.

“Danny!” called Sam in exasperation, Tucker howling with laughter somewhere off to the side, “Just phase through it!”

Danny did so, and with a sudden wave of vindictive fury, turned around and set the vile lawn ornament ablaze with an ectoblast from his palm, the Box Ghost slipping away silently in a rare and uncanny display of situational awareness.

Catharsis at the destruction faded quickly, to be replaced by the all-too-familiar stab of guilt, so Danny quickly smothered the blaze with a dome-shaped ectoshield.  As the oxygen in the space expired, so did the flames, leaving the acrid, blackened remains on the concrete.

Tucker was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“Dude,” he crowed, “you totally set a new record for securing your spot on the naughty list!” Danny was struck with a sudden fantasy of Tucker running around in circles, furiously swatting at flames engulfing his signature beanie.

Sam snorted.  

“Yeah, nice going _champ_ ,” she popped the “p,” and emphasized the nickname with a roguish punch to Danny’s shoulder.  “Way to kick off the season.”

“No way!” Danny protested. “The season hasn’t even started yet. Everyone knows Thanksgiving comes first, these people are just nuts.”

But still, staring at Santa’s mangled face only deepened the familiar guilt that was quickly becoming a Pavlovian response to the destruction of property.  Nuts or not, the Henderson’s had loved the hideous thing to death, and because of him, it was gone.

Just one of the many casualties of Phantom’s movements.  Danny couldn’t help but wonder if his presence incited more attacks than it deterred.  Life would likely progress much more smoothly for the human population if he found new territory to occupy.

Sam rolled her eyes, and pinned a crisp hundred onto what Danny thought was the hat before unceremoniously dumping the remains on the pristine “welcome” mat.

“Don’t you even start,” Sam declared, knowing full well what was going through Danny’s head, as it showed a bit too clearly on his face.

“You know full well that if you left, the town would be overrun in a matter of days.  This was the most haunted spot in America before the Fentons ever moved in.”

Danny, too tired to argue, just nodded, transitioning back to his human form with a burst of light and wandering back towards home with his friends, determined to enjoy the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

Danny stared, jaw agape, in disbelieving horror at the Henderson’s yard.  He would have doubted that anything had happened at all here last night, if not for the inflatable elf, complete with slime green coat and hat, that stood proudly beside the twin of the destroyed Santa inflatable as if by some sick miracle the next morning.

Unfortunately, his friends weren’t the only ones to witness his horror.

Mr. Henderson’s sweater-vested chest swelled in pride at such open admiration for his beloved lawn decorations, and sauntered up to the picket fence, morning paper in hand and sporting a grin so wide it practically split his face in half.

“Aren’t they spectacular? I had a spare for old Santa here in the basement, but someone was kind enough to compensate me for the damages. I couldn’t let such kindness go to waste, so I bought the elf and had it delivered rush.  I have to make up for my tardiness to welcome the season somehow.” Henderson’s comb over waved ominously as he bobbed to brush some imaginary dirt off of the elf’s waistcoat with an indulgent smile.

Danny forced a polite smile of his own, which was really more of a grimace, and continued quickly down the sidewalk, Sam and Tucker trailing behind.

“Just let it go, dude.” Tucker advised when they managed to catch up, clasping Danny’s shoulder, his own shaking with repressed mirth.

Sam just smirked at him, knowingly.

Danny, ripped his shoulder away, sulking, as he stomped down the sidewalk, followed by his oh-so-loyal friends’ laughter.

He resolved to set fire to the ugly things as soon as possible, by complete accident, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm pretty new to creative writing, so I love feedback. Feel free to leave a comment, or chat me up on tumblr. Username is the same.


	2. Fangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vlad begins his morning routine, only for familiar dark thoughts to interrupt him as usual.
> 
> Tone: Sad and angsty
> 
> Chapter warnings: Minor injury, minor blood, unhealthy emotional state, depression, isolationism, loneliness, mild body horror (like so mild I question mentioning it, but hey, better safe than sorry)

Vlad felt consciousness return with a groan, reluctant to start the day, just knowing by some accursed instinct that it was far too late to retreat back into the peaceful darkness. He rolled over, prying his eyes open, only to wince at the digital green display that read 5:25, a full five minutes before the device would force him to awareness with its familiar and brutal assault on his eardrums.

 _Curses_.

There was nothing worse than waking up before an alarm.  It always felt as if some mysterious force was getting one over on him in the most passive aggressive manner possible.  The idea was laughable, of course, but he couldn’t deny that he was always bitter about being cheated out of the precious minutes of sleep.  But he was awake now, so he might as well make the best of it.

He rolled to the edge of his firm mattress, throwing his legs over the side with more force than necessary. He indulged in a minute of luxurious stretching, wincing mentally of the cracks and pops that seemed to grow in number by the day, before finally slipping into his house shoes and lumbering into the spacious master bathroom.

Cool marble caressed his palms as he gripped the edge of the double vanity, a piece he had chosen in a rare display of optimism.  Fat lot of good that did him.

_It’s too early to start this again._

So he didn’t, making a conscious effort to shove the torrent of bitter thoughts to a far corner of his mind to peruse later, choosing instead to run a hand through thick, painfully straight locks that lightly brushed his shoulder blades, admiring the snow-white color in his spotless silver mirror.

Or tried to, thwarted by the thick mats that had developed as retribution for falling asleep before allowing it to dry after his shower the night before.

He sighed, long-sufferingly, and resigned himself to the tedious task of untangling the mess, tucking the strands behind his right ear to begin.  Only to feel a small thrill rush through his lower stomach as his hand brushed a firm, pointy segment of cartilage.

He smiled, taking a moment to feel the tips of his ears with both hands, enjoying the strange, giddy feeling that still went through him twenty years after the accident that produced the distinctive shapes.  Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, but he treasured his snow white hair and unnaturally pointy ears that carried over into his human form when he was alone and at ease.  It reminded him of a fantasy he’d had as a child, where he dreamed he was a forest elf, going on grand adventures in alternate, medieval universes.

He chuckled indulgently, smiling to himself as he recalled a much simpler time in his life, inadvertently exposing a slightly more unsettling change to his human self that filled him with base horror when he first discovered it.

Elongated to a degree that even Jack Fenton would find suspicious, Vlad’s canines now tapered to severe points, honed to a dangerously sharp degree.  He inserted the tip of his right index finger to lightly tug at his bottom lip, exposing his equally deadly under bite.

Fangs.

Once upon a time, he’d see something similar in movies and chuckle to himself at the absurdity of the hallmark feature of a cheesy horror monster that sucked the blood from unsuspecting victims, usually attractive young ladies or idiotic teenagers.

But these weren’t the cheap plastic mockeries that children shoved in their faces and drooled around on Halloween.  

Oh no.  These were the mark of a predator, a sharp-eyed creature of the night engineered to subdue prey with elegant efficiency.

He used to stare at himself in the mirror with horror at that one detail that prevented him from forgetting for even a moment that he was no longer human.  It took him ages to break the habit of gnawing his lips when anxious.  The first time he tried that with his new teeth still made him shudder in revulsion. He still occasionally tasted the coppery tang of blood when he’d forget for a moment and revert to old comforts.

Forget that he was no longer human.  But he wasn’t fully ghost either, as they were quick to establish and kindly reminded him with every interaction, the infantile slur of _halfa_ on their slimy lips.  He didn’t belong in the ghost zone.  He didn’t belong on earth.  He really didn’t belong anywhere.

The isolation hit him hard, as it did every morning at his unnecessary double vanity and every night when he was able to hold off the insomnia long enough to settle into his too-large bed.  All alone.  

After the accident, it wasn’t his newfound abilities themselves that wore his sanity thin.  It was the lack of human contact in his months of quarantine.  His body ached in a very physical way for warmth and weight only a human body could provide.  He longed to feel Jack’s heavy hand resting on his shoulder, or Maddie’s slender arms wrapped around his chest in a hug.  Never conscious of such interactions before, he now regretting his ignorant dismissal of casual human contact, wondering how many opportunities he had missed.  How many times he took the simple gift of companionship for granted.

By the time he was stable enough to rejoin the world, he was devastated to realize it had moved on without him.  His two best friends had eloped without his knowledge, and moved out of state, like he meant nothing to them.  He hadn’t seen any of his other friends in over a year, and was alarmed to find he no longer knew how to make new ones.  More than his newfound abilities to hide in plain sight and walk through walls, this feeling of nonexistence made him feel like nothing but an insignificant ghost of his former self, forgotten by a cruel world after his untimely demise.

Somewhere along the way, he had lost that essential instinct that allowed him to form meaningful connections with other people.  Maybe he never had it in the first place.  Maybe he was made to be forgotten, to fade away.  Maybe he was meant to be alone.

But that was fine.  He could work with this.  He _would_ work with this, embrace this power like the phenom he was.  The universe had given him a great gift, and he would make sure nobody ever forgot his name again.  Vlad Masters, the name of a man who would be the greatest there ever was, would be burned irrevocably into the fabric of both worlds.  So what if he couldn’t relate to people.  That was to be expected because they were beneath him. They didn’t deserve his affection. He was fundamentally better than those swine in human clothing that pretended to care about anyone other than themselves because he had to power to make it to the top.  He would make his fate his own, and anyone that got in his way would learn the truth of his superiority for themselves in the most painful way possible.

Vlad was jolted out of this mental spiral by a sharp pain in his lower lip and the tang of copper.  Shocked, he brought a finger to his lips and idly stared at the crimson streak.  Old habits, old comforts.  His fangs used to disturb him, keep him on edge.  Now they served as a reminder of his convictions.

He faced the mirror head-on, staring deeply into his blue eyes while bracing himself with a firm grip on the counter’s edge as he forced his supernatural features into compliance. A human mask stared back, features again rounded to conform to the delicate sensibilities of the masses.  It was time to shove his sentimentality to the side once more.  He could afford no weakness in this endless pursuit of his goals.  And he had to continue this pursuit without fail, as his goals were all that he had left, the only distraction that prevented him from examining himself too closely, from acknowledging the true volume of darkness that was slowly suffocating him.

For he knew that left to its own devices, the darkness would break him.

If it hadn’t already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Vlad is my favorite character to write. He just has so many layers, and I feel like he was really cheated out of this in the show by putting him in the "evil" box and being done with it. Sure, he has problems, but he's human too. A real opportunity was missed by failing to explore the reasons why Vlad does what he does.
> 
> It's easy to write Vlad off, say we'd respond like Danny. But even Danny crumbled when his support system was taken away. The sad truth is that most of us would likely react like Vlad if in his shoes. His friends left him to rot in that hospital. He probably has no family. Likely in piles of debt, stressed about missing so much school, humanity literally gone, leaving him to question literally everything he has taken for fact.
> 
> So while Vlad is kind of an asshole in the series, his actions aren't completely unreasonable. I'm sure his fixation on revenge was the only thing that kept him as sane as he was for 20 years, kept his mind off of how lonely he was.
> 
> Anyways, enough of that for now. I could ramble about Vlad for ages. Thanks so much for reading!


	3. Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vlad snatches Danny from his bed at an unreasonable time with an unconventional invitation. It’s not at all what you’d expect.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter. The tone is melancholy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danny and Vlad have a purely platonic relationship here. Please don't tag it otherwise. Thanks!

Danny was roused from slumber by a cool hand enclosing around his ankle, and pulling him unceremoniously through the floor into the basement of Tucker’s house before he could so much as yelp.

He reflexively glanced down, registering a black glove releasing its grip, before triggering his transformation, trading pajamas for his signature hazmat, and charging an ectoblast.

“Daniel, wait!” Vlad exclaimed, quietly, sparing a quick glance at the ceiling before releasing his ghost form.

“I simply wish to speak with you.”

Danny was understandably suspicious, not to mention incredibly confused.  But since Vlad was here, in human form, he supposed it couldn’t hurt to hear him out.  Appearing so late at night while Danny was at a friend’s house was incredibly unusual behavior for him.  And, now that Danny took the time to look a bit closer, he could feel that something was a bit different about Vlad tonight.

He was _fidgeting_ ; just his fingers, drumming impatiently against his leg, waiting for Danny to join him on the ground.  Vlad was always so carefully controlled, every action planned and deliberate, impossible to read, poker face firmly in place without fail. But now, he was getting a strange, nervous energy from Vlad, a level of vulnerability he had never witnessed before.  It was…weird.

Before he knew it, Danny found himself releasing the transformation and standing next to a musty pile of opaque plastic bins in place of the traditional cardboard boxes. Tucker’s parents obviously paid attention to the ghost prevention bulletins that had been issued to minimize ghost activity in the area, bringing Danny an odd rush of satisfaction.  It was nice to have his suggestions taken seriously.  It made him feel like a productive member of society and less like—

“—a child?  Daniel, are you listening to me?”

Jeez, he supposed he was still waking up.  Not that Vlad should blame him for that; it was very late and he had been awoken pretty rudely.  He did idly register Vlad speaking a bit too fast, but truthfully had no idea what he had been saying.

“Huh?” Danny replied intelligently, only to be met with an eye roll.

“Honestly Daniel, did you get any of that?”

Danny’s expression must have been answer enough, because Vlad just sighed and massaged his temples briefly with index and middle fingers.

“Fine, let’s try this again. Daniel, as I’m sure you are aware, we are the only two half-ghosts in existence–”

Danny groaned.  Not this again.  At least once a month, Vlad would give him his usual spiel about renouncing his father, and becoming his evil apprentice, or something.

“Would you please just hear me out?” Vlad snapped.  

Danny snorted in disbelief, but made a show of sitting down on one of the bins, before sarcastically gesturing for Vlad to continue with a careless wave of a hand.

Vlad visibility gathered himself, before bracing himself and starting his spiel over again.

“As I was saying, we are the only two half ghosts in existence.  That means that it is my duty as the eldest to educate you in the ways of our culture—“

“Whoa, whoa!”

Vlad’s glare was cutting, but strangely enough, wasn’t threatening.  Super weird.

“You can’t be serious! Our _culture_?  You said it yourself, there are literally two of us!  Any ‘culture’ we have you totally made up!” Danny snarked, emphasizing his point with air quotes.

Vlad crossed his arms, with a huff.

“I realize that the educational system in this country has done you no favors, Daniel, but I didn’t take you for a fool.  Like our unique physiology, o _ur_ culture consists of both human and ghostly elements.  Since you have been a human for most of your life, you’ll forgive me if I skip over that part.

“I was referring to ghost culture, as we are ectoplasmic in addition to flesh and blood.  In this, I have had over twenty years to struggle through the research process, alone, and though I am aware that we do not exactly see eye to eye, this does not change who we are, nor minimize my duty to you.”

Danny was just as confused as when they started this bizarre meeting.  Vlad was saying quite a bit, but communicating almost nothing.  Add his erratic mannerisms into the mix, and it was vaguely alarming at least, utterly bizarre, and almost inexplicably out of character.  Unless…

Vlad was _nervous_.  

Danny was surprised he didn’t pick up on this sooner.  He was usually great at reading people.

On second thought, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising.  Danny didn’t exactly think of Vlad as another person, he realized, with an idle stab of guilt.  To him, Vlad was less than a person, just an evil obstacle that Danny was forced to overcome.

Right now, Danny didn’t see an obstacle.  He saw another person, a person that was still making _no sense whatsoever_.

“Oh-kay…” Danny drawled. “But why now?  Why risk talking to me at” he glanced at his wrist out of habit, only to flush in vague humiliation, idly recalling that he had removed his watch before going to bed, “whatever time of night it is, in hostile territory?”

“Well,” Vlad began rubbing his upper arm, “tonight the ghost zone is hosting a display that only occurs on this scale once every seven to ten years or so, and I didn’t want you to miss it. I have only caught it once before.”

Danny blinked in surprise. This was…not even close to what he expected.  Not that he had any idea what he had been expecting when Vlad yanked him through the floor.

“Why? No,” he said, cutting Vlad off as he opened his mouth, presumably to launch into that awkward torrent of word vomit again. “I did figure out that whatever this is is pretty special.  Why would you care if I miss it?”

A strange look flitted across Vlad’s face, before being smoothed over by his usual façade.

“I am not so petty that I would allow our rivalry to prevent you from bearing witness.  But, as you are clearly not interested, I’ve said my piece and fulfilled my duty, so you are free to go back to your little sleepover,” he sniffed, before turning sharply on his heel and transforming.

“Wait!” cried Danny.  “I never said I wasn’t interested.  I’m just…” he paused, trying to gather all his vague disjointed impressions of the evening into a coherent explanation, “it’s just, well, I’ve been dying to learn more about ghost culture for so long, but with the way things are between you and me, I never dreamed that you’d want to share this with me.  Not that you’ve told me what this is,” he said, staring pointedly into glowing red eyes.

Vlad blinked, taken aback.

“So, are you saying you’ll come with me?”

“Wait, what?”  Daniel asked, confused again.  “You are not making any sense tonight.  Maybe you should give it to me straight.  Are you asking me come with you?  Because I can’t even tell.”

Vlad chuckled, relaxing slightly.

“Yes, well, I didn’t really…plan this out.  I was just up, and my calculations indicated that it would peak in about,” Vlad glanced at his phone, “thirty minutes.”

Danny was beginning to lose patience.

“What is ‘it’?!”

Vlad smiled, not smirked, but _smiled._  Gah, did he cross over to some weird parallel universe?

“It’s…hard to explain, in words.  It would be much better to show you.  You’ll understand then.  But we should leave now; we need to get to a very specific corner of the ghost zone.”

Danny was admittedly torn. Normally, he’d question his sanity for even considering following Vlad, his arch-enemy, anywhere with virtually no information.  Vlad had outsmarted him, tricked him, more times than he could count, displaying smug delight every step along the way.

But perhaps that was what was so different tonight, and what was putting him strangely at ease.  Absent were said smug undertones, only to be replaced by what only could be described as authenticity.  There was an inexplicable air of sincerity about everything Vlad had said and did tonight.  Nothing sounded rehearsed, heck, Vlad had even sounded sloppy, stumbling through disjointed thoughts like a nervous teenager.

So Danny found himself transforming, and following Vlad out into the night.

* * *

Vlad was pleasantly surprised by Daniel’s easy agreement to accompany him tonight.  He wasn’t entirely certain what he was expecting, or what had compelled him to ask Daniel at the last minute like this.

No, he supposed he wasn’t being completely honest with himself.  He knew why he had asked Daniel to come with him.

But he didn’t wish to dwell on that at the moment, so he didn’t, leading Daniel through the Fenton Portal and through the surreal green environment of the ghost zone.

Vlad sighed, taking a moment to enjoy the temporary physical relief granted by the rejuvenating ecto energy that permeated this reality.  It was a strain on his ghost form to exist solely on the human plane for too long.  He could see the boy relax as well, out of the corner of his eye, no doubt enjoying the sensation as much as he.

He led them through a series of doors, one ornate and wooden, one made of a shiny volcanic glass, and one no bigger than a window, into a unique area of the ghost zone split by a dark chasm below and above, infinite in depth and too vast to see across. Vlad wasn’t eager to test his theory about the extent of this anomaly.

The boy stiffened, clearly reevaluating his decision to follow someone less than friendly into a dark, isolated corner of the ghost zone without leaving so much as a note behind.

 _He really is naïve.  Not that he’s wrong; I could easily take advantage of this, if I was so inclined_.

“Relax, Daniel,” Vlad rolled his eyes.  “If I truly wished to dispose of you, there would be no warning.  I would not bother to ask you to accompany me.”

“Oh, is that what you were trying to do?”  Daniel had the gall to laugh, but oddly, the sound put him at ease, rather than on edge as it normally would.  Not mocking, but dare he say, friendly?

“Vlad, most people don’t sneak into rooms and talk circles around someone.  They just _ask_.”

“How?” Vlad said plainly, curious despite himself, though he hadn’t exactly meant to vocalize that particular thought.

Danny did a double take.

“You mean…you’ve never…”

Vlad chuckled bitterly.

“Do I strike you as someone to indulge in idle companionship?  Most of the time I have a secretary write up paper invitations if the situation truly demands it.”

“Vlad,” Danny looked him in the eye, “seriously, just say, ‘hey, I’m going to do this thing, would you like to come along?’ It’s not hard, though,” he conceded, “I guess it does take some getting used to.  At least that way, as the other party, I’d have some idea of what I’m being invited to…do? Watch?  Could you, maybe, explain now, because I’m still pretty confused.”

Vlad felt his face flush a bit, flustered despite himself.

“Yes, well,” he coughed, awkwardly.  “It’s…quite the experience.  I’m honestly not sure how to explain it.  You’ll know it when it starts, though.”

* * *

And know “it” he did. Danny could only watch in awe at the spectacle that unfolded before his wide eyes.

Vlad was right.  The event, for lack of a better word, overwhelmed all senses, known and unknown.  

Visually, the closest frame of reference he had was a scene from that popular movie with the girl and the hair, when they were on the boat on a lake, surrounded by thousands of paper lanterns.

These were not paper lanterns.  But, rising from the lower darkness by the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, he could claim the effect was similar, much in the way a trickle from the faucet in is bathroom was similar to Niagara Falls.

There was no way to describe the scale of the majesty.  He was powerless before its might, the only possible course of action to bear witness. Somehow, he knew he was in for the duration, but this neither good nor bad.  It simply was.

His heartstrings twinged painfully at the sheer beauty of the lights, shimmering up from the depths with an ethereal quality that he simply couldn’t convey with an adequate degree of coherence.  The toxic ectoplasmic green of the ghost zone fell away, powerless before the gold, silver, and white lights that shone forth radiantly.  They were roughly spherical in shape.  He thought?  Honestly, they morphed and shifted so rapidly, it was much too difficult to follow.

The light.  He _felt_ that light, it pierced him to his very core, and it was everything.  He was almost unbearably happy, devastated, freezing to death, boiling in acid, awash in a dream, painfully lucid, completely numb, and awash in a near infinity of other sensations, blurring together and filling him to a point that pushed him to the brink of sanity.

And the sound.  He would never be able to do it justice, but it cut deep.  He wouldn’t revert to stereotypes and crass comparisons, but it rose and fell endlessly. He was soaring, immersed in the light. He was the light, and it was him, inside and everywhere and nowhere, heartbreakingly beautiful, singing of the essence of existence and void, unceasing in its melodious call.

Tears swelled and overflowed, running unbidden and unacknowledged down his cheeks and from his nose, gathering and dripping off his chin, authentic and unapologetic.

There was no telling how long this short eternity continued, and Danny lost all track of self during that time.  It ended slowly, a few straggles climbing upward, only to disappear into the mysterious darkness above, leaving a tenuous peace to settle over the observing parties.

Only to be broken by a sharp, wet inhalation.

Danny jolted as the heavy silence was broken by Vlad sniffing and wiping at his face with a silk handkerchief.  He had completely forgotten that Vlad was here, was the one who had brought him here in the first place.  To “bear witness,” he vaguely recalled.  Indeed.

Vlad seemed to jolt in a similar realization as he glanced over at Danny, sniffing messily, and wordlessly procured a fresh cloth and handed it to him.

Danny accepted gratefully, taking the time to clean himself up a bit, strangely unaffected by his unconventional companion grossly sobbing alongside him.

They floated in companionable silence for awhile, the spectacle having temporarily erased all barriers between them.  No words were necessary, and it felt wrong to pierce this comfortable atmosphere, but Danny had to know.

“What,” he choked off, voice cracking from disuse, “what was that?”

Vlad seemed to get the idea, though.  He stared straight ahead into the void.

“Spirits,” he stated, content, for once, to leave it at that.

And Danny understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew inspiration from La Dia de Los Muertos and lantern festivals.
> 
> So, yeah, I wrote this like a month ago, and now I'm kind of embarrassed by how hokey this is. I was trying to force characters into a mold that they don't exactly fit, and it shows. Big time. Ouch.
> 
> But I decided to leave it unedited for the time being, to provide a marker for how I improve as I go along. I'm pretty new to creative writing, so I'm bound to produce content I'm not happy with in the name of practice. The next couple of days directly follow this, so don't stress too much about the lack of explanation.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Spirit Event. Vlad gives a bit more away than what either of them expected. A direct continuation from Day 3: Spirits.
> 
> Chapter warnings: Back to heavy. Depression, isolation, loneliness, dissociation, suicide ideation

Vlad and Danny stayed, side by side in companionable silence at the spirits’ chasm for an indeterminate amount of time.  It felt fundamentally wrong to leave, the two half-ghosts reluctant to break this strange but comfortable peace that had settled over them.

Humbled in the wake of the vast event, their past squabbles felt embarrassingly petty.

Vlad finally sighed, unwilling to dispel the mood, but knowing if he didn’t make the first move, they would never leave, Daniel clearly awestruck by the spectacle.

“Goodnight, Daniel,” he murmured, as he reluctantly tore his eyes from the chasm and made to leave.

“Wait!”

Vlad jumped.

Daniel’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“It’s just…I don’t…” The boy wrung his hands, eyes casting about as if justification for his outburst would suddenly spring up from the ectoscape.

Luckily, Vlad understood and was feeling merciful tonight.  And a little lonely.

“Come,” he offered, softly.

And, for the second time that night, Danny did.

* * *

The odd pair made their way through the ghost zone, until Vlad spotted an isolated spot by a waterfall in neutral territory, and sat down by the edge on a boulder.  After a moment’s hesitation, the younger half ghost did the same.

They sat in silence for a while, staring into the pool that seemed to have no bottom, occupied by bioluminescent organisms, listening to the rush of the fluid hurtling upward from the depths with a mocking disregard for physics that Danny had come to expect from the Ghost Zone.

It was strange.  Danny thought that maybe the atmosphere would change along with the scenery, but Vlad wasn’t projecting hostility, superiority, arrogance, or even discomfort.  He felt, not quite sad?  Maybe a bit wistful?

 _Melancholy_.  

That was the term he was looking for, and without the distraction of the setting, Danny could see it for what it was.  Of course, it helped that he was experiencing the same thing.

He couldn’t exactly identify why he was feeling this way, but he was almost certain it had to do with the spirits earlier.  But now he absolutely had to know.

“Why did you ask me to come with you?”

Vlad turned to look at him, and Danny was struck by the odd impression that this was the first time Vlad had actually seen _him_ , Danny.  Not a prize. Not a tool to be used at leisure as a small but disposable component of an elaborate scheme.  Not a child.  But a person, his equal.

Vlad sighed, finding this question difficult to answer.

“Quite honestly, Daniel, I had no plans to bring you along tonight, not at first.  But when I had completed the predictory calculations, and imagined the scale of the event…I…”

Vlad struggled with himself, looking torn.  It was not as fun as Danny had always imagined it would be, having Vlad at a loss for words.  Of course, Danny had always envisioned rendering Vlad speechless with a show of superior ability, not…whatever this was.  Not that he was complaining!  It was…nice, in a way.  He felt that maybe he was seeing Vlad for the first time too.  With his usual walls down, Danny could see them for what they were. There really was a person underneath all the grandeur.

Vlad turned slowly back to the pool, staring forlornly into the depths, voice barely a whisper.

“I have no idea why I’m telling you this.  I really shouldn’t, but…my tongue is strangely loose tonight, and I feel strangely compelled to share.  The spirit event shakes me to the core, brings up feelings that normally remain buried. Logically, I know that this is a rash decision brought about by a feeling of vulnerability as a result of a significant event.  But I know that you won’t use this against me.”

Vlad chuckled bitterly.

“Foolish, I know.  But the first time I ever stumbled on the event, I can say with certainty and without hint of irony that it changed my life. I was tired, numb, and intimately aware of how utterly alone I was.  I had found that chasm during my explorations, and had idly wondered what it would feel like to lose myself in its depths.  Sometimes I would just stare, for hours on end.”

Danny was taken aback, but didn’t dare to make a sound.  He couldn’t believe that Vlad was telling him this.  He didn’t know what to think, what to say, so he just listened.

“Imagine my surprise when one day the spirits rose from the depths.  It was,”

Vlad paused, his face alight with wonder.

“It was like…I was born again, but also dying, and floating, and…well, you get the idea.  I know you felt it too.  Going through the aftermath, alone…”

Vlad raised a hand, obscuring his eyes.

“I wouldn’t wish the experience on my worst enemy.  Imagine feeling as you are right now, but without the support of family or friends waiting for you at home.  I wouldn’t trade the experience for the world, but I couldn’t trust myself to go through it alone, again.  I can say with complete honesty that I have no idea how I managed it last time.  I mean, the chasm is right–”

Vlad cut himself off, sharply, shaking his head.

“Trust me when I say it wasn’t an option.  But I couldn’t miss it.  And,” he added, looking over at Daniel, “I suppose I wasn’t exactly honest with you earlier.  I’m sure it’s not a surprise.  But I did mean what I said about this being _our_ culture, Daniel, us, as half-ghosts, not our ghost sides.

“I looked into this phenomena quite thoroughly, as you can imagine, when I could bring myself to do so. It was frustrating, to go through such a dynamic change and tell other ghosts about it, only to realize that not a soul felt as I did.  My allies grew very tired of listening me wax poetic about it.  Ghosts don’t think of this display as much more than a mundane occurrence.  They looked at me like I was insane when I spoke so highly of it.  It doesn’t resonate with them, as it does us.

“I believe that it requires both of our aspects to appreciate the magnitude and significance of the event.  I have many theories and no way to test them, but I get the impression that the spirits bridge the gap between the human and ghost dimensions in some way.  Maybe they’re the spirits of the deceased.  Maybe they represent something entirely foreign, but regardless, they make us feel something.  Ghosts and humans alike lack the connection between both worlds. Ghosts fail to register the emotion of the event, and it’s much too alien for humans to form the necessary connection.  We are in the unique position to appreciate this, and it’s hard to know how to feel about it.”

Vlad sighed, before continuing with a thought that would stick with Danny just as much as the spirit event.

“You have no idea how much it meant to me to be able to share this with you.  For the first time in more than twenty years, I don’t feel quite as alone.”

Vlad tensed; clearly, he had revealed more than he had originally planned, and the significance of this seemed to hit him hard, because he looked about ready to bolt. Danny felt compelled to reassure him, and resolved to think about how weird that was later.

“Thank you,” he simply stated.

“I’m glad you did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the last chapter, I wrote this like a month ago and left it unedited. I feel uncomfortable reading it again. Sorry it's so dialogue heavy. And awkward.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I swear, I know how to write things that aren't sad (at least I tell myself that), but there won't be any evidence to support this for awhile. Next chapter is the conclusion of this particular feels fest.


	5. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation of Days 3 and 4. Danny reflects on the events of the evening. Last part of the Spirit Event.
> 
> Chapter warnings: Heavy (you'll get a break next chapter, I promise). Hint of suicide ideation

Danny sighed heavily, running a hand over his face as he allowed himself to collapse backwards onto his bed.  He glanced at his clock, knowing that sleep wasn’t likely to find him again this night, or rather, morning.

After he and Vlad parted ways, he made his way back to Tucker’s house, collected his things, and left them a note.  Somehow, their company wasn’t appealing at the moment.  He needed some time to himself.

 _Midnight_.  It seemed insane that it was only just that late, and any other time Danny would suspect his clock was on its last legs, as it had been midnight for what felt like the past four hours.  But Vlad had warned him of this phenomenon before they parted ways.

* * *

“There is much I do not know about the spirit event.  But, at least last time, it seemed to have a rather curious side effect.  I can only describe it as a temporal anomaly, but I swear time quite literally stood still for a long while after the last lights faded away.

“Honestly, I was tempted to panic for awhile; people and animals were frozen in place, and not even the wind blew.  I thought maybe I was stuck in a pocket dimension of some sort, doomed to be more alone than I ever was before.  But it eventually faded away.”

Vlad, struck by a sudden thought, pulled back a glove to glance at the watch beneath, only to chuckle mirthlessly, before flying away without explanation, leaving Danny to make his own way back.

* * *

Well, at least Danny knew why now.  The universe a sense of humor so clichéd, it was almost predictable.

This was just one more element on top of the overwhelming amount of information he needed to process from the evening’s events.  Obviously, the spectacle of lights had been an experience that he wasn’t entirely certain how to categorize.  Already, the impressions of the event were blurring together into a confusing sensation that his mind was having trouble quantifying.

Regardless, now he felt…almost exposed?  Feelings and impressions he didn’t remember he had felt very raw.  Colors were bolder, sensations were pronounced.  Somehow, he felt more alive and present than he’s ever felt before.  But it also brought to mind his unresolved difficulties.

Danny still had not completely reconciled the events of his misadventure in the alternate timeline with his evil counterpart.  So many of his core beliefs and values were shaken, including his sense of security in his support system.  It could so easily be taken from him, and he had no idea how he would survive without them even with intimate knowledge of the adverse consequences.  Part of him suspected that Clockwork knew this, and restored his family and friends due to his inability to deal with the grief rather than any merit of his that earned him a second chance.

He was disturbed to no end what he appeared to be capable of.  It was an irrelevant detail that the destruction was caused by his ghost half combined with Vlad’s; it was still part of _him_.

Evil and good.  Black and white morality had been all he’d ever known, impressed on him heavily in childhood.  There was no grey area; there was right and wrong, and that was that. His father emphasized this from a young age, so he tried to be good without fail.

But he did fail, didn’t he? He did things he knew were wrong because, at the time, they were the most convenient.  So was he evil?  He supposed, that according to his definition, he was.  But he felt that he was much less evil than Vlad.  But did that make him good?  And was this even meant to be quantified.  He didn’t know, but thinking about it just seemed to create more questions. People were much more complex than he’d given them credit for, and on some level, he’d known it for a while now.

Honestly, he had been suppressing the problems with his morality system for a long time, mostly because it was Vlad that brought it to his attention.  He didn’t want Vlad to be right, especially after his scathing insults to Danny’s intelligence and maturity level.  But after tonight, he was running out of excuses.

He couldn’t deny that tonight, Vlad had been _different_.  There was simply no other way to put it.  For the first time, Vlad hadn’t struck him as something evil to defend against.  Well, for the most part.

There was almost an improvisational and dare he say nervous quality to Vlad’s actions that night.  He was almost vulnerable.  And at the spectacle, he hadn’t missed the tears that had stained the elder half ghosts’ cheeks as well, and their chat afterward had been…many levels of disturbing.

For the first time, Danny realized how close-minded he had been, and was ashamed.  He had thought he was incredibly open minded, but that just wasn’t the case.  He saw ghosts as lesser beings, despite being one himself.  He minimized Vlad’s human status because of his behavior, which was not totally insane like Danny had always thought.  Vlad really had been through a lot in his life, and he did it all alone.  No wonder he was so fixated on Danny and his mother.

Not, he shuddered, that it made it any less creepy.

But maybe, he would retire some of his harsher insults.  He did not approve of Vlad’s reactions to his unfortunate circumstances, but after his experiences with his evil alternate self, Danny couldn’t be certain that he wouldn’t react the same way.  And if Vlad continued to get under his skin, so what?  Danny was supposed to be the hero.

Not that this really changed anything.  Danny was certain that he and Vlad would continue to clash.  But maybe, after tonight, neither would be quite as cruel.

As Danny’s thoughts settled down for the night, he drifted to sleep despite himself, missing the quick flash as his digital display flipped from 12:00 to 12:01.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. I wrote this last part on the 6th, and you might be able to tell I was gunning for a very specific scenario between Vlad and Danny. But they are both so darn stubborn that they just weren't having it. So I listened to the characters, even though they're reading a bit ooc at this point. There's just too much history between these two to have a redemption arc go the way you'd think it goes from these last three chapters.
> 
> But all is not lost! Fluff will be had, just not from the direction you'd think. So look forward to it! Along with a marked improvement in writing style, after the next chapter, which, I admit, is a bit crack-ish. But lighthearted!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Ghost Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a popular variety of novelty ketchup is discontinued, the ghost population of Amity Park clashes over who will claim the last box. 
> 
> Humorous. Bordering on crackish.
> 
> Warnings: customer service feels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I owe everyone a bit of an explanation before we dive into this fever dream. Yes, I know exactly what ghost hunger refers to, but it just isn’t my thing. It’s a neat concept, but I don’t really find it fun to write for, or even read, except in the rarest of cases. I can stand it if it advances an innovative plotline, but just for its own sake…meh.
> 
> So I didn’t have any idea what I was going to do for day 6. I considered skipping it, but that felt like admitting defeat. With this in the back of my mind, I was scrolling through tumblr, as one does, and found this lovely piece by @schnivel.
> 
> One of my favorite things about schnivel’s style is the dynamic quality all of his characters have. I don’t know how to explain it, but it draws the viewer in, and sells that these characters are real. Complex emotions are portrayed and conveyed with such ease, I get that creative itch every time. I love everything in your art tag, it makes me so happy. Thank you for sharing!
> 
> But anyway. In this particular piece, I love the angle of the external light and the ambient light radiating from the suspiciously viscous fluid clinging to his hands. I think it was the combination of the fluid consistency, color choice, and blood connection that did it.
> 
> So as my mind tends to do when I’m tired and see something emotionally charged, it took a running nosedive off the deep end into absurdist territory.
> 
> So here is a fic inspired by color choice, texture, and my traumatic experiences with product promotion as a child of the 90s and early 2000s. I am so sorry but also kind of not. Please forgive me, schnivel. Thank you so much for letting me ruin the mood. And seriously, check out schnivel’s blog!

“You do realize that’s disgusting,” Sam deadpanned, looking on with a mixture of mild horror and disgust as Danny smothered his hotdog in a quantity of green slime that could only be defined as excessive.  Somehow it was impossible to turn away.  Tucker didn’t seem to share the sentiment, busying himself with his PDA.

Spurred on by the attention, Danny looked Sam dead in the eyes, staring unflinchingly into their icy, amethyst depths while cramming as much of the sandwich into his mouth as possible.

Only to aim a tad low, bumping into his lower lip.  Time seemed to slow down as blue eyes widened comically in surprise, hand contracting around the bun reflexively, coaxing gobs of the novelty ketchup to ooze out the back and coat the front of his favorite t-shirt, soaking into white fabric with karmatic vengeance.

Sam and Tucker witnessed the following shift from shock to sudden horror at the state of his shirt became clear.  They glanced at each other, unprompted, then lost it completely, howling with laughter as Danny dropped his ‘dog to scrub frantically at his chest with a wad of the worse-than-useless paper napkins the school provided that screamed government subsidy. His response time was impressive, but the damage was done: a prominent, verdant dribble trail clearly illustrated the tragedy that unfolded at lunch that day.

“Are you kidding me? I still have half the day to go,” Danny moaned, hands running anxiously through already messy hair.

“Just phase it off!” Tucker pointed out helpfully, returning to his PDA as chuckles died down into amused sympathy.

“Tuck, intangibility doesn’t remove stains.  It’s set too far in the fabric.  Otherwise laundry would be _so_ much easier.  Hmm.” Danny took a moment to consider the potential, wondering if that was how Vlad managed to keep his ghostwear so pristine. Maybe if he could concentrate his focus…

“You had it coming.  I don’t understand why you insist on consuming that promotional garbage.” Sam rolled her eyes derisively.

“Because it’s the best!” Danny insisted.  Sam and Tucker shared a look, resigned to their friend’s strange obsession.

Danny didn’t know what it was, but ever since that popular condiment brand out of Pittsburgh developed a line of novelty ketchup, he was hooked.  It came in all sorts of unappetizing colors, like green and purple, and the cringe-worthy ad campaign made Danny wonder if the whole thing was an elaborate prank.  But it eventually showed up at the discount food distributer his family frequented, and he bought it himself, despite Jazz’s teasing.  Funny.  He swears he’s caught her using it more than once when she thought he wasn’t around.

While Jazz was exasperated by the blatant exploitation of the mindset of the lower middle working class, Sam objected to the artificial dyes and preservatives, and Tucker insisted it was nothing less than an insult to the integrity of meat, whatever that was supposed to mean. Maybe the dye makes it taste a bit different.  Maybe he just gets a kick out of eating food in weird colors and watching his friends squirm.  Heck, maybe he’s just been desensitized by enough mutant, home-cooked meals that something so harmless but strange fills him with nostalgia.  Whatever the case, Danny couldn’t seem to get enough of the stuff.  He even started taking it to school with him as a fun way to avoid looking too closely at what was on his tray.  

“Uh oh, dude,” Tucker chuckled, bringing up a specific news article on his PDA.  “Looks like your days of ruining hot dogs are numbered.”

“You’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding,” Danny begged.

“Afraid not,” Tucker grinned, sliding his tech across the table to deliver the news firsthand.

Blue eyes widened in horror, before the teenager collapsed onto the table dramatically with a moan. “Why is it that as soon as I discover something awesome, it’s gone?”

“Honestly, that’s probably why it appeared on the shelves at Hubert’s in the first place,” Sam remarked flippantly, preferring to pick at chipping nail polish than acknowledge the lump of pouting teenager currently occupying half the table.

“Yeah, brand names are always too good to be true in places like that,” Tucker nodded sagely, patting Danny on the shoulder in mock sympathy.

Danny hauled himself upright with a sigh.  “Nothing else for it.  I’ll just have to go after school and stockpile all the bottles I can.  They can’t be out yet.”

* * *

“How are you out?!  It was just here less than a week ago!”

But the dramatics of a ketchup-crazed teenager were no match for the practiced apathy projected by the young but seasoned customer service guru manning the register, six hours into a ten hour shift.  

“Look, man, I just work here.  There’s plenty of purple,” she sighed, glazed eyes carelessly roaming to glace at the condiments section, poking at her monitor screen.

“It doesn’t taste the same,” Danny moaned, prompting a significant look to pass between the duo accompanying him. They had no idea why they thought it would be a good to tag along on this juvenile side quest.  This was just embarrassing.

“Huh,” the cashier remarked offhandedly.  “Looks like we might have one more box in the back.  I’ll go check, if you want…” she trailed off unenthusiastically, distracted by the hopefully bobbing shock of black hair that wouldn’t leave her alone unless she made a show of effort.  With a long-suffering sigh, the underpaid civil servant shuffled off to the back, teenagers at her heels until she ducked behind a wildly swinging door, a scuffed sheet of plastic shoved haphazardly into the gateway in a pathetic effort to separate customer-friendly space from the chaos of the warehouse.

The friends waited attentively, then with growing annoyance, Sam scuffing the chipping tile with heavy boots as the minutes ticked by.  Around fifteen minutes in, Tucker decided to call it.

“I think she just blew you off, dude.”

“No way,” Danny insisted. “She’s just being thorough.”

At that moment, a familiar figure slouched out from behind the off-white mockery of a barrier. Danny drooped visibly at the lack of bottles in her arms.

“Welp, I found it.”  Danny perked up.  “Where is it?”

“In the back.”  She continued to amble through the aisles, not even bothering to glance at the irritating customer as she returned to the front.  Danny followed her, confused.

“And?” he ventured.

“What?” she asked, uncapping a company pen to doodle on a scrap of receipt paper, pointedly ignoring the nuisance in the vain hope it would leave her in peace.

Danny barely restrained himself in time to prevent throwing his arms up in exasperation.  “Can I have some?” he dared to ask.  The girl acted like she didn’t hear him, outlining a cartoonish face with care, allowing him to stew for a while.

She finally raised hazel orbs full of resignation to meet his.  “You somehow manage to get it down, you can just have it.”  The _just leave me alone_ was implied.  Heavily.

Danny lit up.  “Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him away, returning to her receipt sketch.

“Thanks!” Danny called over his shoulder, already on his way to claim his prize.

“That was kind of weird,” Sam observed.

“Oh, come on Sam, why do you have to be so pessimistic all the time?  She probably couldn’t reach it.  All Danny has to do is float up to the shelf, and we’re out of here,” Tucker said, confidently leading the way into the dark space, the main light coming from a desk equipped with a dated microwave and littered with the remains of hurried lunches.

It was kind of weird being behind the scenes.  The air felt heavy, stale.  It was difficult to shake the uneasy feeling that they dismissed, at first, with being in a restricted area, but that quickly faded into the background.

A puff of cold air suddenly expanded, forcing its way up a certain ghostly throat and expelling in a bluish cloud as it forced vapor in the surrounding air to condense.

“Nice going, Tuck,” Sam punched him lightly in the shoulder.

Danny ignored the exchange, quickly “going ghost” and floating up to investigate.  And was not at all surprised to find the Lunch Lady and the Box Ghost playing a less-than-friendly game of tug-of-war with the box of sauce.  Okay, maybe he was surprised; he didn’t know either of them had a subtle bone in their bodies…if they had bones.  Or bodies. Gah.

He was honestly kind of impressed that they had avoided detection for so long, and wondered if the cashier’s composure spoke to her merit, or to the horrors of customer service. Danny resolved to be nicer to customer service associates.

From there, it was “doom” this and “beware” that.  Danny threw some ectoblasts, repelled some processed meat products, brushed off some boxes.  It was amazing how much more annoying the two of them were working together.  But, still, not even really a challenge, so the half ghost made short work of the duo, while trying not to think too hard about the implications of this team up.  A certain young ghost from an alternate future came to mind…

Danny chased the pair off, trying not to think about the two of them sharing a thermos.  He was all too glad to claim his prize and head home. It had been an interesting afternoon.

* * *

Despite the strange start, the pair of friends thought that the day was pretty successful.  As a result, neither Tucker nor Sam were expecting the caricature of despair that greeted them on the front steps of Fenton Works come morning.  

“Dare we ask?” Sam muttered.

Tucker sighed, shaking his head.  “He’ll let us know soon enough.”

* * *

Somewhere in Wisconsin, a certain blue-skinned half ghost emerged from his portal, shiftily checking the entrance before ducking through with his prize.

 _What am I doing?  I live alone_.

Still, one could never be too careful.  It wouldn’t do to have Daniel catch wind of this.  He certainly would never admit it, but he couldn’t help the strange nostalgia it inspired; the off-putting color instilled him with a strange longing for cheap meals of questionable quality cooked with a certain pair of paranormal science students.  He still had his dignity after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was first posted on tumblr, so sorry for the rambling notes, lol.
> 
> Anyone who’s ever worked retail knows the best way to get rid of a persistent customer and score an extra break in the process is to “check” the back. Seriously, most places know what they have in the back due to the magic of inventory, but for some reason, that middle-aged woman with too much makeup will not leave us alone, insisting we check the back because she thinks we’re idiots (you know the type). And how dare we come back without checking thoroughly. The cashier probably found the ketchup in less than a minute, determined retrieval was impossible, then spent the rest of the time on her phone. Of course, like 10% of the time, there really is extra in the back so I can’t exactly fault them, but we could do without the condescension.
> 
> So…yeah. I think my mind kind of mashed together the fact that the show took place in the 2000s with the fact that ketchup looks vaguely like blood, and the drawing used the two major colors of Heinz’s horrendous EZ Squirt line. As a child who begged for this ketchup, then refused to eat it, I can understand the initial appeal, but it got gross fast, and I didn’t finish the bottle. What can I say, it tasted off to me. I feel like I read about some human instinct regarding food safety contributing to that at some point. But I still remember this product, especially the commercials, with horror.
> 
> Thank you so much to schnivel@tumblr for the inspiration! Hope everyone enjoyed it!


End file.
